Avenging Angels (The Seraphim Chronicles Book 1) (21 page)

THIRTY-ONE

Evangeline had slept all day after sitting up half the night with her secret, forbidden pages. She had returned the papers back to their secret hiding place before sunrise and crawled into bed. She was still sleeping when Jack came back into the bedroom after finishing with Gideon’s installations in the late afternoon. He crept into the room and crawled under the sheets next to Evangeline’s sleeping form. He spooned himself behind her, wrapping his arms about her shoulders and nestling her into his chest.

Evangeline stirred from his subtle movements and stretched, surprised to find Jack snuggled up next to her. She let out a soft sigh of pleasure as she pressed herself closer to him.

“Good morning,” she murmured, tugging the arm draped across her body closer.

“Good
afternoon
, sunshine,” Jack snickered. Evangeline rubbed her eyes open and focused on the blurry numbers of the clock on her bedside table. It was after 3:00 p.m. She had slept through breakfast and lunch, but did not feel hungry.

“Sleep well?” he asked softly in her ear.

She stretched again and rolled over to face Jack. “I guess so,” she said in a daze. “Have you been asleep the whole day, too?”

Jack leaned in and kissed her on the lips. She kissed him back and smiled. His lips moved to her cheek, then her ear, and he brushed them across her cheek again before he kissed her on the neck, evoking a giggle from her. He thrilled in her reaction to his tender touches. 

Jack pulled away to look into her face, brushing some stray hairs out of her eyes. “No, I’ve been up for a while, working on a new project. How are you feeling?” he asked. Evangeline scooted closer into Jack, nuzzling her head into his chest and breathing him in.

“I’m doing okay,” she mumbled. “How’re you feeling?” She lifted her eyes and saw the extensive bruising on his neck. Her eyes widened. She had seen her share of cuts and bruises in combat, but it was a new thing to see her husband banged up as if he had seen battle in a war zone. She sucked air in through her teeth, propping herself up on her elbow to get a closer look.

“Whoa, how does that feel?” she asked, her fingers hovering above his skin, wanting to touch his bruise without touching it.

“It looks worse than it feels,” he shrugged. “The pain inhibitors are doing their job well.” He liked her worrying about him like this. She relaxed and dropped her head back on the pillow, reclaiming her position close against his chest. They cuddled in bed for a little while longer, listening to each other breathe and sharing a few lingering kisses. Evangeline finally took a deep breath and pulled away, rolling out of bed and walking into the bathroom. Jack loved to watch her walk. The natural grace of her movements made her alluring and mysterious.

She closed the bathroom door halfway behind her, and Jack could hear water streaming from the shower. He had already bathed earlier, but he thought to himself, “Cleanliness is next to godliness.”

He threw off the covers, undressed, and joined his wife in the shower.

THIRTY-TWO

Evangeline stepped off the lift in front of the Level Ten Crisis Unit. She wished she had risen earlier, but she did not regret feeling refreshed and rested after sleeping in all day. After showering and getting dressed, she had enjoyed a small dinner of tilapia and steamed rice with Jack at home. Jack then returned to his study to work, but he was very mysterious about what project he was working on. He wanted Gideon to be a surprise for later, when he was finished tinkering with his latest AI. Evangeline assumed he was designing another addition to the arena and he wanted to keep her in the dark before the unveiling.

She left the house around 5:00 o’clock and made her way through the series of shuttles and lifts that would take her to see Daryl Simmonds.

The clock next to the lift platform indicated it was 6:00 p.m. Visiting hours ended at 6:30; she was not going to get to spend much time with Daryl, assuming he would even be conscious. She walked through the main clinic doors and entered a large reception area filled with small tables and chairs. People were seated around the periphery of the room, talking in hushed voices or reading tablets. A doctor here or a nurse there could be found among some of the clusters of people in the waiting area. Evangeline assumed they must have been dispensing updates on a patient’s condition or perhaps some medical advice.

An Angel was sitting behind the reception counter, wearing white scrubs instead of the typical robes. To see an Angel volunteering at a medical clinic that specialized in serious diseases was no surprise. As far as anyone knew, Angels were immune to every disease known to man.

As Evangeline walked through the reception area, she kept her eyes on the Angel. He was looking around the room with a peaceful smile on his face, his eyes lighting from one group of people to another. He did not show any interest in anyone in particular, but scanned the room with a vague, blissful appearance.

“Hello!” he brightened as Evangeline approached the counter. “My name is Gabriel. How may I help you today?” His dark blue eyes radiated kindness and love. Evangeline believed he was capable of sharing a perfect love for every person who came into the clinic.

“I’m here to see Daryl Simmonds,” she answered, unable to withhold a smile in return. “He’s a TRTV pilot. He was brought in here yesterday afternoon after an accident on the base.” Gabriel glanced down at his monitor.

“Yes, Private Daryl Simmonds was admitted yesterday, with injuries to his neck, along with Dr. Nathan Park and two base medics. Their names are not in my records,” he said as he looked up.

Evangeline furrowed her brow in confusion, wondering why the Angel was telling her about a base physician and two medics admitted at the same time as Simmonds. “Was there some kind of secondary accident in the base clinic?” Evangeline asked.

The Angel looked down at his display. His eyes scanned across the screen for a moment, and then he looked at her again. “My records show that Dr. Park was the attending physician in the clinic when Private Simmonds was brought in, accompanied by two medics. Dr. Park declared a state of quarantine for himself and the medics who had come into direct contact with Private Simmonds. They were transferred to this facility to be quarantined.” The Angel finished and continued to smile with compassion. “Are you a relative of Private Simmonds?” he asked.

Evangeline understood the restrictions in place to protect patient privacy, but military regulations allowed superior officers to have access to their subordinates.

“No, I’m his flight instructor. I was involved in the accident myself,” she said, sparing the details. It was not as if the Angel would have cared.

The Angel stood up from his desk. “Very well, Captain Evans.” He raised his arm, extending it towards a door to his left. “If you’ll go through these doors you’ll find Private Simmonds resting in suite 1017 on your right. Visiting hours will be over at 6:30. Our patients need their rest.” The gentle smile never left his face as he recited the directions.

“Thank you, Gabriel,” Evangeline said as she began to walk away from the counter. After a few brisk paces, she came to a sudden halt and turned back toward him.

“Wait,” she paused. “How did you know my name?”

Gabriel returned to his chair and sat down, studying his display for a moment then looking back up at Evangeline.

“It was in my records,” he answered, unruffled and calm. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Captain?”

Evangeline’s eyes squinted, letting the answer mull over in her mind. She was uneasy that he knew her identity without her offering it. Angels tended to adhere to formal introductions, and something did not seem to fit that Gabriel would address her by name before being asked.

Evangeline dismissed the discrepancy. Angels were not malicious, and it was logical that her information was connected to Daryl’s military record. She told herself it was nothing to worry about; she smiled at him again and thanked him for his assistance before walking through the double doors.

The hall came to a T intersection with another, longer hall. The signs to the right led her to rooms 1015 thru 1030, just as Gabriel had said. Evangeline found the placard identifying suite 1017 and stepped through the door of Daryl’s room.

Two beds lined on the wall to her right, the bed closest to the door being unoccupied. The exterior wall was composed of floor-to-ceiling window panels allowing waning, dusky light to illuminate the space. A glass wall separating the two beds cut the room in two. Evangeline had seen privacy curtains in the base clinic separating patients from one another to minimize the spread of disease and to enhance privacy, but that was different.

She puzzled over the peculiar glass wall for just a moment as her eyes fell upon the second bed. What she found there made her feet feel glued to the floor. She raised her hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp.

Daryl lay on the bed behind the glass, covered in white fabric. Layers of sterile gauze concealed every inch of his visible body. His arms and legs were connected to the bed by loose restraints at his knees and elbows. A screen above his feet displayed a program on deep-sea creatures, but his glossy eyes were not focused on it. Sitting beside the bed was a man in his thirties, dressed in white scrubs like the ones Gabriel wore. He sat in a chair with one leg crossed over the other, reading a tablet.

Evangeline recovered her voice and whispered, “Dr. Park?” No response. She tapped the glassed and called a little louder. His face jerked up from his tablet at the noises coming from the doorway.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” he asked. The bags under his eyes screamed volumes about his fatigue. He looked like he had not slept all night. The exhaustion visible in his face and frame were nearly as upsetting as Daryl’s mummified appearance.

Evangeline took a hesitant step into the room. “I’m Captain Evangeline Evans,” she announced and tipped her head in the direction of the bed behind the glass. “I’m Simmonds’ flight instructor. I just came to check in on him.”

She looked from Dr. Park to Daryl, who had turned his unfocused eyes in her direction. He stared at her for over a minute before comprehension erased the blank look on his face.

“Captain,” he slurred, beaming a bright, drug-fueled smile. “What brings you up here?”

Dr. Park got up from his chair and stood beside Daryl’s bed to monitor his vital signs. He gave an approving grunt, nodding to himself as he looked over the screens and read-outs.

“Never dispute the positive effects of human connection,” Nathan said to Daryl. He looked up at Evangeline. “His status has not been this good since we’ve been here. A visit is already doing him wonders. His parents were here this morning, but he was unconscious at the time.”

“Are they still here?” Evangeline asked as she looked over her shoulder. She wondered if some of the people in the reception area were Daryl’s family. She would like to speak to them before she left.

“No,” replied Nathan. “They were here for several hours waiting for Private Simmonds to gain consciousness. They left a little while ago. You just missed them.” Evangeline nodded in acknowledgement. She looked down at Daryl lying in the bed. He had a huge grin on his face.

“Are you my girlfriend?” he asked, slurring his words again.

Evangeline shot a quizzical look at Dr. Park. He just chuckled and gave a little smile.

“He’s heavily medicated. The pain was becoming too much for him to bear.” Daryl’s eyes remained fixed on Evangeline. He smiled with an expectant look on his face.

Evangeline grinned at Daryl like a mother to a child who had given her a rock he found on a playground. “No, I’m not your girlfriend. I’m your flight instructor. You’re too much of a flirt to have a girlfriend,” she teased. Daryl’s expression was dumbfounded.

“You’re my flight instructor?” he repeated. “Wow, you’re really beautiful.” There was a pause as the rusty wheels in his head churned. “Are you sure you’re not an Angel, because you could be an Angel.” There was another pause, and with a jerk, he made an unsuccessful attempt to sit up out of bed. “Are you my guardian Angel?”

Evangeline smiled at his drug-induced sincerity, but she had some important questions that needed answers.

“Daryl, what happened at the base yesterday? Do you remember blacking out?” she asked, almost dropping her voice to her military tone. But, Daryl was not looking at her anymore; he was studying the fish on the screen. Dr. Park put down the tablet and came around to stand face to face with Evangeline through the glass.

“His lucidity comes and goes as his body absorbs the pain meds. We can’t seem to maintain a stable level in his system. There’s something going on in his body that defies everything I know about human anatomy,” said Dr. Park. His shoulders sagged as if he were carrying an impossible burden

“What’s happening to him, doctor? When they pulled him out of the TRTV yesterday, there wasn’t a scratch on him. Why is he covered in bandages? Why was he placed in quarantine?” Evangeline’s questions spilled out.

Nathan took a long, deep breath and exhaled it in a rush as he looked over at Daryl’s bed.

“We don’t know,” he confessed.

A small flame of panic ignited within Evangeline; if the expert did not know what was afflicting Daryl and how to treat it, was there any hope left for him?

“I called for the quarantine of Private Simmonds, myself, and the two medics that were in direct contact with him after he exhibited signs of a serious disease in the base clinic. Within a few hours, it was clear that human contact did not spread whatever he contracted. The medics were released last night, and I volunteered to stay with him until we figured this out.”

Evangeline looked into Nathan’s eyes, nodding as his words registered into her conscious mind. She was still concerned about words like
quarantine
and
disease
.

“As far as we can tell, there was no injury in the initial impact. But, for whatever reason, his epidermis is unable to maintain adhesion to the underlying tissues.” Evangeline’s expression went from understanding to confusion.

“What do you mean?” she asked, leaning in toward the glass. Her anxious breath left fog on the pane. Nathan took a half step toward her and lowered his voice.

“We can’t keep his skin from falling off of his body,” he whispered. “And we can’t explain why.”

Daryl erupted from the haze, struggling with his might against the restraints. He was screaming, wild-eyed and deranged. He looked over at Evangeline and recognition lit up his face.

“Captain!” he screamed. “The man! He offered me a drink of water. After I swallowed, I started getting a strange feeling all over my body. Ahhh!!!” The monitors began to blare and alarms sounded throughout the suite.

Daryl was writhing against the restraints. The veins on his forehead bulged and pulsated in frantic rhythms. The monitors displaying his vital signs showed erratic spikes and pitfalls. Nathan rushed to Daryl’s bedside, and tried to make him lay down. Evangeline watched helpless as he called for the emergency team to assist him. Within seconds, people in environmental suits streamed through a side door and surrounded Daryl’s bed. They injected colored liquids into his IV and moved the monitoring equipment out of the way. He screamed in tortured agony.

Evangeline was helpless behind the glass, unable to deny the reflex to cover her mouth with her hands. Tears slipped from her eyes and dribbled across her fingers. Someone in a hazmat suit rushed in from the corridor and wrapped their arms about her, trying to remove her from the room. Whoever it was, they were weaker and smaller than Evangeline and she broke their grip with ease.

“Whatever happened to common courtesy and saying please?” she grunted through gritted teeth.

Just then, another blood-curdling scream from Daryl interrupted the struggle between Evangeline and the suit-clad nurse. The swarm of people in environmental suits hovering about Daryl’s bed resembled hornets after their nest had been knocked down. A gap between medical staff permitted Evangeline a brief glimpse of the cause of Daryl’s roar.

His face.

The skin was sloughing off his face like the peel of raw fruit. The nurses were trying to hold his face onto his skull so they could wrap his head like the rest of his body, but it seemed even the underlying tissues were disintegrating beneath their touch. Evangeline could just make out the cartilage of his nose, and she caught sight of an ear dangling in the wrong place against the side of his head. The tilapia and rice were threatening to come up. The grotesque and bloody vision of Daryl screaming, falling to pieces, seared itself into her memory.